Carlin on Quayle
After two trips and about six total hours of walking to, from and around the various shops of McKinney, I've finally managed to get the mouse I wanted. It seems a silly quest, I know, but I've really enjoyed using a laptop mouse, so I had to get one before I left.
Walking around the stores here is so trippy, though. I feel like Haley Joel Osment in a Reubens exhibition - I see fat people! They're everywhere!
As I was wandered I saw winter clothes on special, so I took a look. As is my custom, I picked out a couple of XL sweaters to try on, and was astonished to find that they were like tents on me. A "medium" ultimately proved to be my size. Medium! I haven't been medium since I was about 12! I feel so petite!
The tracksuit pants were impossible, though. The sizes which were long enough were sufficiently capacious to fit my whole body down each leg. You'd think it would be possible to find athletic gear in a reasonably athletic cut, but apparently not...
Speaking of mediums, I saw a sign on the way to the store reading "Psychic Institute". The building itself was a small, nondescript block of prefabricated imitation-brick walls. Perhaps it's just me, but "Institute" seemed a rather grandiose title for such an unassuming place. There was also no indication from the sign whether it was offering a commercial service, advertising an academy for would-be phoneys, or simply a facility for housing unfortunate members of a specific subdivision of the lunatic fringe.
Came home and watched The Daily Show's coverage of W's State of the Union address, highlighting the appointment of Laura "Please-don't-look-at-me-because-you-scare-me" Bush to a body responsible for curbing gang-related teen violence. After which came an old George Carlin show with him ranting on Quayle.
Ahh, that's better.
Walking around the stores here is so trippy, though. I feel like Haley Joel Osment in a Reubens exhibition - I see fat people! They're everywhere!
As I was wandered I saw winter clothes on special, so I took a look. As is my custom, I picked out a couple of XL sweaters to try on, and was astonished to find that they were like tents on me. A "medium" ultimately proved to be my size. Medium! I haven't been medium since I was about 12! I feel so petite!
The tracksuit pants were impossible, though. The sizes which were long enough were sufficiently capacious to fit my whole body down each leg. You'd think it would be possible to find athletic gear in a reasonably athletic cut, but apparently not...
Speaking of mediums, I saw a sign on the way to the store reading "Psychic Institute". The building itself was a small, nondescript block of prefabricated imitation-brick walls. Perhaps it's just me, but "Institute" seemed a rather grandiose title for such an unassuming place. There was also no indication from the sign whether it was offering a commercial service, advertising an academy for would-be phoneys, or simply a facility for housing unfortunate members of a specific subdivision of the lunatic fringe.
Came home and watched The Daily Show's coverage of W's State of the Union address, highlighting the appointment of Laura "Please-don't-look-at-me-because-you-scare-me" Bush to a body responsible for curbing gang-related teen violence. After which came an old George Carlin show with him ranting on Quayle.
Ahh, that's better.

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